


With Time Comes Understanding

by Squid_Ink



Series: The Eagle and the Cross [43]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Epica - Freeform, Gen, Tides of Time - Epica, post Cecily's death, post Elise's death, sad feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 09:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7354813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squid_Ink/pseuds/Squid_Ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After losing his wife to a difficult childbirth, Ethan Frye stops briefly in Paris on his way to India, where he asks his old mentor and friend if losing the one you love gets easier with time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Time Comes Understanding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



_Paris, France_ _—_ _July 28, 1794_

Arno stroked her cheek gently, trying to coax an expression to Élise's much too still face. "No," he whispered, "no, no, no! Élise!" he took her by her shoulders and shook her, not hard but enough to rouse her. Her head flopped from side to side like a discarded doll. Arno glanced up at Germian's lifeless body, the man's head resting in a pool of his own blood. Arno balled his hands into fists and wished he had the power to bring back the dead to kill Germain again.

Arno choked on a sob, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears. He knew Élise would want him to carry on but life just seemed so hopeless without her, nothing but an empty dream. He rose to his feet, and walked to where that damn sword was lying. "Nobody should wield this type of power," Arno muttered as he slipped the weapon into his belt. He went back to Élise's body. Swallowing, he brushed her hair from her face. She looked so beautiful and peaceful, as if she was merely sleeping. Arno slid his arms beneath her and scooped her up, cradling her against his chest. He closed the chamber behind him, and carried her out of the Temple. It would be Germain's tomb, but not Élise's.

Once outside Arno made his way through the streets of Paris, until he reached Norte Dame. "You had wanted to get married in Norte Dame," Arno whispered, glancing at Élise's, her head resting on his shoulder. "Instead your wake will be held in it," he said, bitter and heartbroken.

 _They_ should have been married in Norte Dame. He was going to ask her for her hand after this. Instead, he took her down and little alley, the great cathedral's shadow standing vigil over the city. It's thousand gargoyles stone sentinels, watching him make his way to a small little church dedicated to St. Raphael. "Father Henri! Father Henri!" Arno called once he entered the little church. He heard a voice curse and a plump bold priest stumbled out, wooden crucifix dangling from his neck.

"Arno, my dear boy, what brings…." Father Henri stopped at the sight of Arno, carrying Élise's corpse. "Oh, my dear boy," Father Henri murmured. "Bring her this way." He gestured for Arno to bring Élise to the alter. He cleared it, of what little items rested upon it, and Arno gently placed her body on the stone slab.

"Would you see to her… that she has the—" Arno stopped, tears leaking from his eyes. He bit his lip, covering his mouth with a hand. "I'm sorry."

Father Henri put a comforting hand on Arno's shaking shoulder. "Don't apologize Arno, I'll see to her and make sure she receives proper care."

"Thank you," Arno said, sniffing and wiping away his tears. "I… ah… have to speak to the Assassin Council. Tell them… tell them what has happened."

"Yes," Father Henri said, "do what you must." Arno stood up, looked at Élise and stroked her hair once before leaving. Father Henri sighed, staring at Arno's back. He then looked at Élise's body. "Oh, my dear girl, you should not have sacrificed yourself for such a foolhardy cause. You should have listened to Arno."

* * *

_Paris, France – November 15, 1847_

Ethan sighed as he ran his hand through his short hair. Last time he was in the French city he had been a young man, a journeyman assassin with Cecily by his side. Last time he was in Paris, his mentor wasn't so stooped, nor did he have a cane. His hair was an iron grey oppose to the moon silver it faded too. There were fewer wrinkles on his face and his hazel eyes still held the light of life in them, instead of being dim with age.

Last time he was in Paris the world was his for the taking.

"Ethan," Arno said, his voice raspy with age and illness, the old French assassin coughed, a wet whacking sound. "Good to see you." Ethan shook Arno's hand.

"I hope I didn't drag you from your sick bed Master Arno," Ethan said as he sat down, he glanced around the Café Théâtre. The place buzzed with the low murmur of conversation, and Ethan could pick out the assassins that were relaxing or discussing potential targets.

"Nonsense," Arno wheezed. "I was getting frustrated being cooped up in that room anyway."

"How are your children?" Ethan asked. Arno smiled sadly.

"Alive. Hunting Templars, tracking down Pieces of Eden to hide them. My daughter… recently gave birth to her own child," Arno laughed, "I say recent when it was really seven years ago, and she had two more since the first."

"You're a grandfather, congratulations," Ethan said, a smile on his face.

"Yes, my eldest son also has children. I have five grandchildren, Ethan. I felt old seven years ago when my first grandchild was born, but five, ha!" Arno said, only to go into another coughing fit. "Damn flux."

"I'm glad to hear that," Ethan said.

"How is Cecily by the by?" Arno asked, and when he saw Ethan's face fall he knew the worse that come to pass. Ethan didn't look up when Arno placed an old gnarly hand on his. "I'm sorry Ethan."

"I blame him," Ethan whispered softly, "even though I know he had nothing to do with it, I still blame him. The doctor said such things happen on occasion."

"Blame him?" Arno asked.

"Jacob…" Ethan looked up then, "my son." Arno gifted Ethan with a rueful smile. "I have a daughter and a son, Arno. Evie and Jacob. They are twins, Evie's the oldest. Cecily died birthing them… there were complications and…" Ethan looked up at Arno. "Does it get easier Arno? Does this pain eventually fade?"

Arno squeezed Ethan's hand before letting go and looking away. He pulled out a worn old letter. His name written in a graceful hand. "I've read this letter over a thousand times, most likely more," Arno said, he pulled the letter out of its envelope, there were two pages. "It was her last letter to me. Explaining why she did what she did that night."

"Who?" Ethan asked. He met Arno's wife a few times before when he was a young man, but Arno never spoke of any other woman other than his wife. Ethan had been too terrified of what the man would do if he had asked.

"My one love," Arno said, "Élise."

"Élise?" Ethan asked.

"Yes, my daughter shares her name. Élise de la Serre was an extraordinary woman, fiery, kind, stubborn. She had a mischievous streak and was always quick to laugh. I loved her, and I never loved anyone else. She was killed by the same man that orchestrated her father's murder. She was too drunk on revenge to heed me. If she had just waited a few more minutes, I would have been freed and we would have taken Germain together."

"I'm… I'm sorry," Ethan whispered.

"Don't be Ethan, it was fifty-three years ago." Arno caressed. "But it still feels like it happened yesterday. But, I'll be seeing her soon anyway."

"What?" Ethan asked.

"I'm dying Ethan," Arno said, folding up the letter and sliding it over to Ethan. "I know in my bones that I don't have much longer to live. I've seen and lost enough for one life time. I'm looking forward to a good rest."

"You… You can't die, Arno. Who will guide me?" Ethan asked. "You've been… like a father to me in ways that I can't even describe."

Arno chuckled. "You sound like my own children, Ethan. 'No, Papa, you can't die! I still need you!'" Arno looked away. "I never did ask you, but why are you in Paris?"

"I'm… traveling to India. I need to… get away from England, clear my head and figure out what… what do with my life."

"What about your children?"

"Their grandmother is watching them. For six years only. Then I have to return. I'm not myself Arno. Ever since Cecily's death, I'm not myself."

"I understand; I went on a similar journey after Élise's death. Well, you are welcome to stay at the Café Théâtre."

"Thank you," Ethan said and stood up, leaving the letter on the table. Arno watched Ethan walk off before he took the letter and slipped it back into his pocket.

The next day, Ethan rocked on his feet as he prepared to get into the steamboat that would take him south to a ship waiting to sail to Egypt. "Monsieur Frye! Monsieur Frye!" a voice piped through the crowd. Ethan turned as people grumbled. "Monsieur Frye!" the voice called again, and petite young woman tumbled out of the crowd. "Monsieur Frye, I was told to give you this, by Monsieur Dorian."

"Thank you," Ethan said, taking the letter, which he recognized as Élise's last letter to Arno. "But…"

"Monsieur Dorian passed away this morning, his last wish was that this letter be given to you," the maid said.

"No," Ethan whispered, squeezing the letter tightly. He looked down at it, realizing that Arno had kept this with him for fifty-three years, that Arno never moved on from Élise. "Did… Did he say what I should with the letter?" Ethan asked. The maid shook her head.

"No, just that he wanted you to have it," the maid said. Ethan nodded, and the maid gave a little bow before heading back to the café. Ethan tucked the letter inside his coat before boarding the steamboat.

**Author's Note:**

> Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft
> 
> I almost teared up on some parts. I was listening to Tides of Time by Epica, and I had this idea that Ethan would stop in Paris to say hi to Arno before heading off to India, and that Arno would understand Ethan's pain of losing Cecily.
> 
> Tea Logic has this brilliant idea that Arno and Ethan knew each other, and that Arno was Ethan's mentor.
> 
> In my head, the British Assassins have an apprentice program. They start training when they are 12/13, and don't advance to journeyman status until four years later, which then they travel around Europe for another four years gaining knowledge from the assassins elsewhere. Cecily and Ethan spent some of their journey man time in Paris under Arno's mentor ship.
> 
> Arno marriage with arranged, his cares about his wife, but he doesn't love her, not in the way he loved Élise. To me, he'll forever and always only love Élise.
> 
> Save an author; leave a review.


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